He held out his cane to stop her path. “You’ve been so helpful; would you like to look at my wares? If anything I have wants to belong to you, you may have it as payment for your information. Never let it be said I don’t take care of my debts.”

Briar raised her eyebrows. If anything wants to belong to me? She was about to refuse, but a pretty piece of cloth waved at her in the breeze. Briar could ask Mim to teach her how to copy a fancy pattern. It wouldn’t hurt anything to look.

The peddler removed the rough wool cloth hiding the majority of the goods he had for sale, and stood back to let Briar get as close as she liked.

Hesitantly she approached, drinking in the objects like her poor room-mate Ania always did with the candy peddler. Briar had a little money set aside as a cushion in case she fell ill or had to miss work for any reason, but he was offering her something for free. Ethel would advise her to get something practical. Mim would have her select something beautiful. Perhaps she could find something both practical and beautiful.

“May I make a suggestion?” the peddler said. “I’ve been studying you and think I have the item here in this box.” His unique turquoise eyes drew her in.

Curiosity piqued, Briar followed him back to the end of the cart where he pulled out an old wooden box. “Something from the Old Country. Something beautiful. Yet something practical.”

Briar gasped then chewed her lip. Had she mumbled those words out loud?

He turned the box so the object would be facing her when he opened it. After clicking the lock, he lifted the lid to reveal a drop spindle nestled in a cloth of royal blue. It was unlike any spindle Briar had ever seen before. The whorl was carved with roses and the wooden shaft, stained a light brown, came to an unusually sharp point on the end.

“Well, spinner girl?” He tapped his fingers triumphantly along the edge of the box.

“It’s beautiful. And practical.”

“Even more, ’tis special.” The peddler hiked his ragged boot up on the wagon wheel and leaned his arm against his knee. “That spindle is said to bring prosperity to the owner. Take that with you to your work and replace just one of your spindles on your frame with the shaft. Keep the whorl in your pocket and the wooden spindle will absorb the shock of the machine such that the threads will not break. You will finish your work quickly and easily ahead of all the other girls.”

Briar eyed him sideways to show she wasn’t believing his tale. Besides, if she got caught changing out a metal spindle for this wooden one, she’d be let go on the spot and given a dishonorable discharge. She looked more closely at a dark smudge on the whorl. “Has it been in a fire?”

“It’s been through many a trial, an old spindle such as this, but it’s proved its worth. Once belonged to kings and queens.”

Briar let his words rush by. It was the habit of peddlers to create stories around their goods. An ax from a poor farmer became the ax used to forge a trail west by Daniel Boone.

“What is it made of, then, that it didn’t burn? I don’t recognize the wood.”

“Looks to me like fairy wood,” the peddler said. “A rare hardwood from the old German forests. If you believe it, legend says a fairy formed it out of briarwood from the Black Forest. Maybe she even imbued it with her magic.”